United States

The 26th of April, 1986

April 15, 2016

First, there was nothing. It was a day just like any other, mundane, ordinary, boring. But then, at precisely 1:23 in the morning, there was a plume of smoke in the sky, the mushroom shape drawing attention to itself. I, looking back, had been severely distracted, having been going through a bout of insomnia due to Diesease's newest spawn, but a glance out the window showed all. Thick, black smoke, rolling and roiling through the sky. Chernobyl had exploded.

Outside, people were running, screaming, looking for shelter. Little did they know then, that they were all infected, no matter where they sat in that moment. My hands were tied, attention drawn to the HIV outbreak, still, after so many years. Radiation soared rapidly through the air, permeating everything, infecting everyone. There was no escape from Death and Disease as they flew through the air on swift, light wings, casting spells on those below. Death took hold of thirty-one and pulled them along behind him through the sky, souls wrenched from bodies, husbands ripped from wives, fathers torn from children, brothers stolen from sisters. 

Disease laughed he'd at my distraction, always keen to turn the scales in its favor. The two of them danced around me, taunting me, chiding me. You can't save your world. Your creation will fall to us. You are suspended in air on restricting hooks under your breath as you're forced to watch as we gain control of your world. You have failed your creations, and not for the first time. Your hands are tied, deity. This world is ours. 

They say it was an accident. All an accident. They were testing safety. What a joke that was. A test in safety pulled Disease from a deep slumber to bring out terrifying mutations, disgusting cancers, laughing at the destruction it would cause. The air was putrid, and the future looked bleak. Thirty-three more would die due to the radiation itself. Death would hold their hands as they died, ready to pull them to Heaven or Hell. Children would be infected by cancers, born with disabilities and mutations, and Disease would smile with its sick, twisted grin as the fruits of its labor tear people apart from the inside. Disease crossed my wrists, one over the other, as Death suspended them with a chin. I struggled against my restraints, desperate to stop the falling shambles. The Earth quakes in fear as another beast yawned and stretched. 

Syndrome awoke that early morning as well, winding its way into the veins of people trying to help, people trying to save the ones inside that damned place. It took an ax to their DNA, chopping it apart, bit by bit. It grasped their tissues in its large hands and tore them to shreds. It inhaled, long and filling, only to blow out a string of more cancers to live in harmony with the ones born by Disease. Syndrome and Disease held hands, fingers intertwined, eyes smiling, full of love, as their children render those infected to nothing more than ashes. Death gets to work on taking those same people above or below, or somewhere in the middle. The three stood together, smiling, as I hung, midair in the middle of it all, unable to stop it. They pulled me taut and made me watch as the Devil danced with them, rendering my world, my creation, to putrid waste. Chernobyl had exploded, and Death, Disease, the Devil, and Syndrome reigned supreme, taunting me endlessly. This is not the first time. This is not the last. Chernobyl had exploded, and I had failed.

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